Mind Erased
by RikuNghts
Summary: Set years after the second movie, all Decepticon threats are gone, and the Autobots have made Earth their new home. But a treaty with the government will force Bumblebee and Sam apart. Will Sam lose his memories forever?
1. Prologue

Author's Note: This fic was inspired by a short drabble I had done to the song Taking Over Me by Evanescence. A few people liked it, so I decided to expand it into a fic. And so, here it is. I hope you enjoy it! Comments are greatly appreciated.

* * *

The Decepticons were defeated. They were gone; their bodies destroyed and scattered to different locations around the world: Antarctica, the Mariana Trench, and other secure locations.

The Autobots suffered their own casualties, and these were dealt with privately within their community. Injuries and missing parts were repaired and replaced. The government provided a large, forested area as a "sanctuary" for them, and gave them permission to stay on Earth, provided they leave if it was deemed too dangerous for them to stay. Optimus Prime, leader of the remaining Autobots agreed.

They were not to harm humans or wildlife, and they were not to reveal themselves to anyone outside of a special sector of the government, including the President himself. They were easy terms to agree to, and so Optimus swore all his people would comply.

Until the final article in the contract was revealed.

"Surely this is not necessary," Optimus said, glancing at the large screen in front of him with the new laws he was required to follow. He narrowed his optics and leaned closer to it and the humans below.

"The President feels that it is. We do not want the truth of your existence to be revealed, and as long as the boy is aware of it that is always a risk. A risk we cannot allow."

"But the Decepticons have been defeated," Ironhide said, gesturing behind him. "There is no risk left on that front."

"No, there isn't," the Ambassador agreed. "However, there is still a risk on the side of humanity. There are countries that would stop at nothing to gain your weaponry and knowledge if they knew you existed."

"And you think the Autobots would allow them to achieve this? You are sadly mistaken."

"We don't doubt that you wouldn't fight them off, however, there are methods of making you comply. You saw what happened to your friend when the Decepticons were after the boy's glasses and the location of your Allspark. There are now Autobots much smaller than Bumblebee that could be easily contained if you were unable to come to their defense."

Ratchet frowned, his metal optical lids clicking loudly as he blinked. "The only reason Bumblebee didn't fight harder is because Sam was there, and he couldn't risk injuring him as well as the other humans."

"Be that as it may, these are the terms that you must agree to if you are to stay on Earth."

The three large Autobots turned to look at their comrades, waiting in another hangar across from the one they currently occupied. Bumblebee sat on the ground, all his attention focused on Sam, who was pacing by his large metal feet. The Twins, now fully repaired, mimicked him and bumped into each other, getting into a shoving match. Arcee stepped in and separated them.

"There is one of us that will not agree to these terms so readily…" Optimus said at last, turning back to the human Ambassador, Wilks.

"You must all agree, or the deal is off and we'll ask you to leave."

"He has been his guardian for so long. Could he not remain with the boy? As his Camaro?"

"No contact." Wilks repeated. He stared up at the large robots and shrugged. "Look, I didn't write the rules. If it were up to me, I wouldn't really care, but you must see the President's point of view."

"Yes, we see it," Optimus said. He hesitated a moment, before nodding. "Fine, I accept your conditions."

"Optimus," Ironhide started, and was stopped with a raised hand.

"Bumblebee will not readily leave this planet while the boy is still here. This is the only other option. He will have to accept it. And he will, with time."

His two companions didn't say anything

~*~

Bumblebee was focusing all of his processors on Sam and didn't notice when his friends arrived. Only when Sam fell into a deep shadow did he look up from his seat on the ground. Sam turned and stared up at Optimus, who knelt down.

"Well? What happened, how did it go? What did they say?"

"We can stay," Optimus began and Sam let out a whoop. Bumblebee mimicked the action, his own cheer coming out as a hoarse screech and whir of gears. Ratchet leveled a laser at him and he coughed.

"Thank… you…" Bumblebee said, with effort. The vocal processors were still damaged, but they were gradually returning to function. Ratchet nodded.

"Great! Then let's get out of here and go home, Bee," Sam said, patting Bee's leg. Bumblebee started to stand and instantly started to shift into a Camaro. Sam put a hand on the door, ready to climb in.

"There's more, Sam. Bumblebee, wait." Optimus stood and paced a distance away, then came back. "Part of the agreement is that we are not to have contact with humans."

"Well, that's how it was before, right? I mean only NEST and me and Mikaela really knew about you guys. So that's cool, right?" He looked up at them, expectant. "Right?"

"No humans, Sam, no contact. That includes you."

"But…"

A second later, Bumblebee was standing in front of him, staring at Optimus. He gestured wildly, agitated. "…why…?" He managed.

"The human President does not want our technology to get into the hands of violent countries. It is a reasonable request."

"No! That's not right!" Sam argued. He looked up at them, pleading. "Come on, guys. You can't just agree to something like that!"

"The threat is over, Sam," Ratchet said, with a small shrug. "There is no longer a need for you to have a guardian. Were you not ready to give him up a few years ago when you went to college?"

"That was different! I couldn't have a car on campus, I couldn't bring him with me! But I can now, so it's cool." Sam looked over at the Twins and Arcee, pleading with them. They had drifted closer and had heard it all. "Come on, you guys agree, right?"

Arcee tilted her head. "If it is necessary for us to remain, I don't see how it can be avoided, Sam."

Bumblebee tried to speak again, but the sound he made was just a frustrated groan of gears grinding against each other.

Sam wanted to argue his point further when he noticed army vehicles pull into the hangar and up to them. Men he didn't know climbed out and advanced towards him. He took a few steps back.

"Bee…" He said, and his guardian was at his side, blocking them.

"Stand aside, Bumblebee. Let them do their job," Optimus ordered. The smaller Autobot glanced up at him and shook his head.

"Samuel Witwicky, come with us."

"Why? Where are we going?" He asked as they finished their approach. One grabbed his arm and he jerked it away. "Hey! You don't have to grab… what the hell is going on? Optimus?"

"I am sorry, Sam. Go with them. It will be all right."

Sam was led to the car where they started to push him in. "Wait, not until you tell me where you're taking me. And let me at least say goodbye to Bee first!" He was ignored and shoved again. He turned to yell at the man when another in a mask came up behind him with a needle. "What? No! NO! BUMBLEBEE!" He yelled, lashing out against those restraining him.

"Sam!" Bee cried out, and rushed to his aid. Ironhide blocked his way.

"It has to be this way, Bumblebee. Let him go."

Bumblebee watched, restrained by the larger Autobots as the needle plunged into Sam's skin. In seconds, he was no longer resisting. The last thing he heard from Sam was a very faint call of his name, barely audible even to his finely tuned processors.

The vehicles pulled away and disappeared. The Autobots were left alone in the hangar.

"Not… fair…" Bumblebee pulled away from his friends and backed up.

"You have to let him go, Bumblebee. It's the only way we can remain here."

Arcee slipped up behind him, resting a hand on his arm. "Would you rather be banned from this planet, without hope of seeing him again, or somewhere you can at least watch over him, even if it is from a distance?"

Bumblebee didn't answer her, but he stopped resisting them. He looked towards the direction they had taken Sam, and let out a long, mournful cry.


	2. Chapter 1

A/N: Thank you so much for the reviews! I'm glad everyone enjoyed the prologue. I just hope that from here on out, it meets your expectations. So, without delaying further, chapter one! Enjoy! Comments are much appreciated (and might entice me to write faster? ^__^) And now for the disclaimer since I didn't in the prologue.

Disclaimer: I do not own Transformers; they are not mine, nor ever will be. I also do not own the lyrics to the song below. That belongs to Linkin Park. However, I did buy the soundtrack, as should every other fan.

* * *

"Samuel Witwicky! Come down here!" A shrill voice called up the stairs. Sam lay on his bed, staring at his ceiling and sighed. It was going to be another one of those days.

"Coming, Mom." He got out of bed, pulled on a pair of pants, and headed down the stairs, running a hand through unruly hair. Mojo sat on the counter, looking out the window with Frankie. The clock on the microwave read 11:39. He groaned.

Outside, his mother sat in a chair on the new patio, looking agitated while she drank from a glass of iced tea. His father was leaning over the grass, running a hand over it and shaking his head.

"Sam, you slept in again," his father started.

"Actually, Dad, I wasn't technically asleep. I was awake. Just in bed. There's a difference."

His father ignored him and kept talking. "We had a deal. After your accident, we agreed that you didn't have to get a job this summer as long as you helped out around the house."

"I can still help, just because I slept in doesn't mean I can't. Here," Sam said, coming off the steps and moving towards the grass. "I can mow the lawn."

"Sam! You not the grass, get off the grass. You know how I feel about that."

Sam rolled his eyes and stepped back. "Yeah, yeah. I know. 'When you get your own yard, you'll understand.' I've heard it before, Dad."

"As long as you know, then. You can start helping by taking out the trash. Tomorrow is trash day, you know."

Sam didn't say anything as he trudged back in the house and went to all the different rooms, collecting and bagging the trash in a large, black bag to take out.

He'd only been home for two weeks since his accident. Three weeks before, at the end of his third year in college, he'd gone to a party – one he didn't remember – and had driven home afterwards. He'd lost control of his car and totaled it. He had no memory of that night, and other memories were selective at best. And since then, he'd had severe migraines that left him sick and weak for hours, sometimes days. He was in the hospital an entire week before they'd let him return home. His parents had been upset, but they were glad he was making a recovery. But they weren't letting him get another car in the foreseeable future.

After he dragged the bags outside, dumped them in the cans and pulled the cans to the curb, he turned back to the garage and faced it, frowning slightly.

The blood in his head pulsed, and he felt a headache starting to form between his eyes. He reached up and rubbed at it. Something was missing, he thought. Something, but what?

"I know what," he said after a moment. "My damn car. Wish I could even remember what it was…"

With that, he turned back and went inside.

"Mom, I'm getting a headache."

"Your pills are on the counter," she said, now weeding the flowerbeds next to his father. He went into the kitchen and found the bottle and took two, then went back up to his room.

His room was a mess; he hadn't put things away from the dorm room yet. Maybe he'd do that later. Or maybe he'd find something else to do. Since coming home, he'd done nothing but stay at home and watch movies with his parents.

Maybe he'd go out tonight. Go out, find his old friends and find a party or something. Or maybe just go out and catch a movie.

But he had no car to do that.

Sam rubbed his forehead, wincing as a flash of pain stabbed his forehead. The pain sometimes was colored - always a bright, blinding yellow. He leaned against his desk and stared at the empty driveway again.

Maybe he should call Mikaela… he hadn't talked to her since last week, and she'd seemed agitated that it had taken him so long to call. Yeah, he'd do that. He grabbed his phone and sat on his bed, started to dial her number, then stopped.

He just didn't feel like it. He didn't feel like much of anything. Maybe it was a side effect from the medication they gave him in the hospital, but since his accident he hadn't had a drive to do anything. His life was boring and he felt like something was missing. Something he should remember but couldn't.

Once in awhile, Sam would get a flash of something, the barest brush of a thought that would cross his mind, but before he could recognize it, it would be gone, and leave him frustrated. And then seconds later, a blinding migraine would slam into him, doubling him over in pain, and leaving him retching in the bathroom.

~*~

Hundreds of miles away, a lone Autobot sat on the ledge of a cliff, metallic legs hanging over the edge. All of his processors were turned in the direction of his former charges home, a very long distance away. A distance farther than he'd ever been from him since their first encounter four years before.

Bumblebee tapped into the satellites, internet, phone and radio waves around Sam's house to monitor him. His human had barely left the house since they were separated, which made it easier to keep an eye on him, but it also worried him. Sam had always gone out before.

And the pain he had in his head was causing him to be ill. It pained Bumblebee to see it and not be there to comfort him, even if he didn't know how to help.

Sometimes when he watched Sam, the boy would stop what he was doing and just stare. At first the Autobot thought it was the headaches that were plaguing him, but after the fifth time it happened, he started to wonder if maybe his government didn't do such a good job in erasing his memories.

The thought brightened his mood considerably.

Heavy steps behind him alerted him the presence of one of his friends. He briefly shifted his sensors back to his surroundings and noted it was Optimus.

The larger Autobot stood behind him and scanned the horizon.

"You have been spending much time alone, Bumblebee. I understand that it is difficult for you, but it has been three weeks. It would be easier for you if you could move on."

"I… cannot."

Optimus did not respond to this. He stood patiently behind him for a moment before continuing. "Come down from this ledge, just for a while, so that Ratchet can look at your vocal processor."

"So give me reason, to prove me wrong, to wash this memory clean…" Bumblebee let his radio do speak for him. Optimus shook his head slowly and left the ledge to give his friend peace.

* * *

Lyrics from "New Divide" by Linkin Park.


	3. Chapter 2

Author's Note: Hello everyone! It's been far too long since I last updated this. I hope you can forgive me and will continue to read! I started a new job a while ago that ate all of my time. I find myself on vacation for a few days and after watching both of the Transformers movies again I decided it was definitely time to update. I just hope that I can keep the story going in the path I originally intended.

Enjoy! And as always, comments are greatly appreciated!

Disclaimer: I do not own Transformers; they are not mine, nor ever will be. The songs belong to their respective owners, as well.

* * *

"Come on, Sam! Hurry up," Mikaela called, laughing as she ran to her bike. Sam followed after her, allowing himself a small smile. "You'll be late for your curfew."

"It's fine, trust me," he replied as he took the helmet and slid onto the back behind her. He grinned at one of the guys walking past them and wrapped his arms around her slim waist.

It had taken him another two weeks to call her, but he did, and she'd agreed to pick him up. They had planned to go to the movies, but ended up at a party instead. He was glad he'd done it. He hadn't realized until a few moments ago how badly he had needed to get out of his house and away from his parents.

The bike roared as she pulled her feet off the ground and took off, and he held on a little tighter, pressing against her warm back.

Sam had hoped the party would do something to jog his memory about what had happened before the accident. There were too many large gaps, and though he didn't tell anyone, it scared the shit out of him. Once in awhile a tiny piece would come back, usually something from one of his classes, but too much was still gone. The doctors said he might never regain all of his memories, but that all of the important ones were there.

But how the fuck did they know what memories were or weren't important? If it happened to him, it had helped make him the person he was. What if he wasn't the same anymore? Hell, he wasn't! He knew that he loved Mikaela, and went out with her as much as possible before the accident. But now here he was, taking over a month to call and go out on one date – a single date! Now that was seriously weird.

The bike slowed as they reached a red light a few blocks from his house. Next to them a car rolled to a stop and Sam glanced over at it out of habit.

And froze.

The car was a gorgeous, yellow Camaro. Fifth generation, Sam was sure. He pulled away from Mikaela and turned towards the car, his eyes widening behind the visor of his helmet. The engine purred loudly as the driver revved it, and Sam shivered at the sound. Faintly he heard Mikaela's voice in his ear over the built in speakers in the helmet, saying something about a "hot car." He had to agree.

A jolt ran through his body and pain stabbed his forehead. His vision started to turn dark and he clutched Mikaela tightly, afraid he'd lose consciousness.

_A bright flash. Yellow. Music blaring through the speakers. "You got me hypnotized, I never felt this way, got my heart beating like an 808."_

Sam jerked back to reality as the Camaro sped off.

"Sam?"

"I'm okay, I'm fine. Just go. I have to get home," he replied as he watched the taillights fade in the distance. He sounded breathless even to himself, and wondered how it sounded to Mikaela.

_Probably like a boy having a wet dream over a car_, he thought to himself as a horn blared behind them. Mikaela gracefully flipped the car off and sped off down the road.

As soon as they pulled into his driveway, Sam pulled his helmet off and thrust it at Mikaela just as she pulled her own off. "Are you all right, Sam?"

"I'm fine. Don't wanna beak curfew," he said quickly, and dashed off.

"Sam!"

He turned, jogged back a few steps and gave her a kick peck on the lips. "Thanks for tonight, I had fun. I'll call you tomorrow, promise," he said, and dashed to the house. He didn't see the look she leveled in his direction, as she muttered, "boys."

Sam's parents were sitting on the couch when he ran into the house and tripped up the stairs.

"You're very close, mister."

"I know, but I made it!" Sam called from the top of the stairs.

"Are you drunk?" his mother shrieked.

"Nope!" he answered and slammed the door shut. Unconsciously he clicked the lock shut. "Where is it?"

Sam allowed himself a moment to take a breath and calm himself. His whole body trembled with energy looking for a release, and he thought he'd explode. The vision from before slammed into him again, and he stumbled forward into his desk.

_A bright flash. Yellow. Music blaring through the speakers. "You got me hypnotized, I never felt this way, got my heart beating like an 808."_

When it faded he used that energy to tear into his room. "It's here, it has to be here somewhere," he muttered as clothes and books were flung about the room. He pulled his desk drawers open and rifled through them, all but dumping out the contents in his search. When they yielded nothing, he pulled the desk from the wall and looked between it, hoping something had fallen.

Nothing.

Standing, he spun in a circle and pushed a hand through unruly hair. A search of his trunk brought the same results. His closet was also bare. If his parents had broken down his door and asked what he was doing, he wouldn't have been able to tell them. And when they saw the destruction he had wreaked on his room in such a short amount of time, they would have had him institutionalized for sure.

But they seemed not to hear, and so his search continued.

When at last he had searched his entire room and didn't find anything, he flopped onto his bed and stared up at the ceiling breathing heavily.

His head was throbbing now, and he felt sick. Sweat poured down his face, but he didn't want to move. Instead, he focused on the thin crack above his bed, and wondered how long it had been there.

Time moved slowly, and gradually Sam grew tired. He turned onto his side and stared at the wall… and at the small piece of tape there.

"Tape?" he said in surprise and sat up. It was just a small piece, a corner that remained behind from a much larger piece. Sam rolled off the bed and pulled it away from the wall enough to wedge his body into the narrow space and drop to his knees.

It was a little too dark to see, but he felt along the space with his hands for something, anything that felt out of place. Most of it was clothing, and a few magazines in a pile. Nothing unusual. He ran his hand along the baseboard and felt a surge of excitement pass through him as his hand brushed into a small piece of glossy paper stuck between it and the wall. He grasped the edge and stood.

Sam stared down at the picture in his hands and felt a small click in his brain, as if a door had been unlocked.

It was a picture of him from a few years ago leaning against a beat up, old Camaro. It was yellow, and black stripes ran down the center of the hood. A few spots were rusted, but it was beautiful.

A small drop of fluid hit the picture and he looked up at his ceiling. Was the roof leaking? When he felt a drop roll down his cheek, he realized it came from him.

Sam lay back down on his bed, curling his knees to his chest and clutching the picture tightly as he sobbed softly into his pillow. He cried for all he memories he'd lost that he wasn't sure he would ever get back. He cried for the car he'd lost that he couldn't remember. He knew cars were inanimate, lifeless things, but he hoped that it hadn't suffered, anyway. And he cried in frustration for what seemed to be just beyond his grasp.

Eventually exhaustion took over and Sam fell into a deep, dreamless sleep, still holding onto the photo.

~*~

Arcee sat next to her friend and looked up at him wondering, with a small amount of curiosity, if Bumblebee sat there long enough, would a tree start to grow through him. It had been a long time since he'd last moved, and only agreed to it when the twins had offered to keep watch over Sam.

"Bumblebee, Ratchet wanted to take a look at your vocal processors again."

His optical sensors clicked as he blinked in response.

"He's helping Optimus and couldn't come up here. Don't you think it would be good to move your gears a bit? You don't want to rust. Ratchet would be pissed if that happened…"

It was like talking to a mountain, she decided, when once again she didn't receive a response. If it weren't for his occasional movement, she would have been sure he shut down completely.

But Bumblebee did hear her, however faintly. And in his processors, he did think maybe he should get off the cliff more often, but he was afraid if he wasn't here, constantly watching Sam, then something would happen. And it would be his fault.

_"This is my December, these are my snow covered trees. This is me pretending this is all I need."_

"Oh Bumblebee," Arcee sighed. She laid a hand on his arm and stayed where she was. "At least let us sit up here with you. To talk. Company can't hurt."

He glanced at her. She looked… sincere. He finally nodded and turned back to his vigil.

"What has he been doing since they… altered his memories?"

"Sick."

"The whole time?"

"No… tonight. Party with… Mikaela…"

"Does she remember anything? Or did they do this to her, too?" Arcee remembered her brief stint as the girl's ride. It had been enjoyable. She was so carefree.

"Yes, they did. Parents, too."

"It's a shame. It would have been nice to have had human friends…"

Bumblebee offered a sound that sounded much like a snort, but came out as a wheeze and clicks of gears freezing together and locking. He coughed and Arcee smacked him. "Thank… you."

Arcee nodded and continued to watch with him. At one point her companion leaned forward, and his wings – the doors – fluttered in excitement. "What? What is it?"

"Sam. He's… remembering. He saw a car. A Camaro. Yellow."

"Just because he saw one, doesn't mean-"

"No! He has headaches… they are… memories. Trying to…" he stopped and waved a hand, unable to get the rest of the words out.

"Memories trying to surface?"

The larger Autobot nodded and leaned back when the episode ended. By now the moon was high in the sky, and Arcee was growing tired. How he could keep this up, night after night, she didn't understand. She stood and rested a hand briefly on his shoulder.

"Get some rest, Bumblebee. If he needs you, you're no good if you can't function."

He nodded to show he'd heard her, and listened as she made her way down the cliff to the base of the mountain. He did rest, when Sam did. He was able to shut down all but a few of his sensors, and it was enough to keep his energy going. He could go this way forever, if he needed to.

Bumblebee returned to his lonely vigil, and watched triumphantly as Sam ripped apart his room and found a single picture. He remembered the day it was taken very well, and was glad it had somehow been forgotten when the agents cleared out Sam's room.

Maybe it would be key to unlocking his memories.

* * *

Lyrics from "Break the Ice" by Britney Spears and "My December" by Linkin Park


	4. Chapter 3

Author's Note: Thank you for your reviews! It has encouraged me to write more, and faster than last time. So, without further ado, chapter three~

Disclaimer: I do not own Transformers; they are not mine, nor ever will be. The songs belong to their respective owners, as well.

Comments are greatly appreciated! Enjoy!

* * *

The next day, Bumblebee finally came down from the cliff on his own. Sam was at home, and the Autobot ran multiple scenarios and finally came to the conclusion that the boy would not be hurt.

Not that he was completely off his sensors. He was still patched into the satellite and though it wasn't the best or the most complete feed, it would suffice for the time being.

When he stepped off the path leading towards the top of the mountain, some of the smaller Autobots around looked at him with a mixture of curiosity and disdain. Bumblebee could sense their feelings and disregarded them. He sought out one of his companions and found them across the compound.

"Well, if it isn't Bumblebee!"

"Yeah, what's shaking, man? Come down off your- hey!" Mudflap yelled as Skids hit him in the back of his head.

"It's good to see you," Ironhide said, nodding curtly.

"You've… done a lot," Bumblebee nodded with a gesture to the compound. The larger Autobot nodded.

"Yes, we have. Come with me, I'll show you what we've done."

Though he had been focusing his attention on Sam, he had been aware of some changes his friends were making to their new home. They had materials delivered from the American government frequently, and in large shipments. He had seen some of it the last time he had come down, but he had not been aware of the progress since then.

"Impressive," he finally said as they stood in a large underground hangar.

It was a large structure that lay deep beneath the Earth, out of range of radar and other sensors. It was nearly five hundred meters across, and just under fifty meters high. There was one other room like this already built, connected to this one by a tunnel currently closed off at the other end. More chambers of this size were planned, as well as individual quarters for each of the Autobots. When asked why, Ironhide explained that it was for them to continue research many had started before coming to Earth.

"Can't just sit around on Earth doing nothing, can we?"

Bumblebee felt a slight twinge of shame filter through his processors by his inability to cope with his loss. Maybe he could try harder to interact with his group.

"Come on, Optimus will want to see you."

The pair made their way across the wide chamber where Ironhide stopped in front a large, rectangular panel. He raised a metallic hand and laid it carefully on the surface. It beeped once, and the seemingly smooth wall parted to reveal a corridor. Unlike the room, it was made of the rock under the Earth, rather than steel.

"It can be sealed off easily, if need be," Ironhide explained, running a hand over the smooth rock. Bumblebee did the same, and his sensors told him precisely how solid the walls were, and what they could withstand.

The tunnel wasn't nearly as long as the room they'd been in, and they crossed it quickly. Another panel like the previous one graced the wall, and Ironhide repeated the procedure. The wall slid open with a faint _whoosh_ as if air was decompressing. Whereas the previous cavern was empty, this one was filled with computers and other electronic devices.

At one of the consoles, Optimus Prime stood over one of the screens. He glanced at them and offered a small smile. "Bumblebee. It's good to see you, old friend. How is Sam?"

"Well… he is… remembering."

Optimus stood straighter and frowned. "Remembering? How?"

"He has… headaches. And with them… memories." He gestured and projected an image, recorded from the previous night. Optimus and Ironhide watched as Sam ripped apart the room and found the picture.

He closed the projection just as Sam curled around it. He wouldn't show them the boy crying… that was personal. Private. And he had watched it countless times last night.

"Those government agents cleared out that room after they wiped his memory. They were thorough; I don't believe they would have missed something like this. Images… are powerful. They can evoke memories. Surely they knew this."

Ironhide snorted. "Humans are far from perfect, Optimus. It's not surprising they were careless and left something behind. If an _Autobot_ had done the job, however…"

"Regardless of that," Optimus started, turning his frown to Ironhide, "they are likely to be monitoring him. If he starts to regain to many memories, they may take him back in."

Bumblebee started and shook his head. "They cannot. It… could kill… he is… not well."

"I'm sure they would be cautious, Bumblebee. However, I will keep an eye on this situation as well. Until that time, we have work to do. Your help would be appreciated… when you are ready."

The smaller, yellow Autobot nodded, but excused himself. It had been awhile since he checked Sam, and he was growing worried – especially with the talk of further involvement with government.

If it came to that… Bumblebee would find a way to stop it.

~*~

Sam woke the next morning to intense banging on his door, which translated right into banging in his skull. Like a knife right between his eyes. With a groan he sat up slowly and covered his eyes to block the sunlight.

"Come in…"

"I would, but your door is locked. Unlock this door right now, young man! You know the rules!" his mother yelled from the other side of the door.

Sam groaned again and rolled out of bed to get the door. He kept his eyes closed as he took a step forward and promptly fell into the pile of clothing. He let out a yelp when his elbow banged into a table.

"Sam, are you all right in there?"

"Nghhh I'm fine!" he groaned and rolled onto his back, his hand clutching the wounded elbow. "Just give me a minute."

Once more he managed to push himself to his feet and surveyed the damage. "Holy shit… this place looks like a war zone. I am so dead."

Somehow he found a clear path to his door and pushed a bit of debris away before unlocking the door and popping it open a crack. "Yes?" he asked his mom with what he hoped was a pleasant – and innocent – smile.

"Why was your door locked?"

"I don't know. Why does it matter?"

"What were you doing in here?"

"Nothing. Why? I was just cleaning and uh, I wanted peace, Mom. So if you'll just go, I can continue to uh, clean, and …" Sam trailed off.

"And?"

"And I'll finish?"

"Let me in this room, Samuel Witwicky. Are you hiding something? You were acting very strange last night when you came home. Were you drinking?"

"What? Mom! No! I was not drinking!"

"Drugs, then?"

"Mom, no. I don't do drugs, how many times do I have to tell you that! Besides, they would screw up my medication."

Judy frowned, her hands on her hips. She pushed her way past Sam into his room and gasped. "Oh my God, what happened? Your room is a disaster!"

"I told you I was trying to clean it."

"You're damn right about that, Sam! My God, this place is a… it's unbelievable! Go. Take a shower and then you're going to clean this room. I know you don't feel well, Sam, but you cannot live like this. Go get dressed."

Sam sighed and grabbed what he hoped were a clean pair of jeans off his floor and a t-shirt and headed for the bathroom at the top of the stairs.

The hot water from the shower felt great on his skin and helped relax his muscles. When he finished washing, he remained under the heated spray, bracing his arms against the wall and leaning into it. He replayed the events of the previous night in his mind, from the party to the ride home, and finally the picture he found tucked against the wall behind his bed.

"Picture… what was it doing there?" he murmured to himself. He stared down at the water and watched it swirl around the drain by his feet. He thought of asking his parents about the car, but decided against it.

Something didn't feel right.

Right after his shower, Sam took his medication and stared in the mirror. He looked tired, his skin a little paler than usual. Frowning, he leaned closer to it and pushed his hair up off his forehead. "… what is that?" Narrowing his eyes, he stared at the small cut just at his hairline. It disappeared into his hair, and he pushed it out of the way to follow it. It faded away about three inches back.

"I don't remember that," Sam stated to the mirror. "Do you?" He shook his head, and his mirror self mimicked him. When he shrugged, so did his twin. "Oh well. Just another memory," he sighed, and pulled on his t-shirt.

His mother was blessedly out of his room when he returned to it, and so was a large portion of his clothes. It cleared up some of the space, and gave him a clear path to his bed. Sam checked quickly, and the picture was where he had left it under his pillow. With a sigh of relief he turned to survey the damage and clapped his hands together.

"All right. Let's get this over with."

Deciding it was far too quiet Sam turned on his radio and turned it up. Over the radio came Lady GaGa's voice as she sang about a "Love Game."

_"Let's play a love game, play a love game do you want love or you want fame, are you in the game?"_

Sam worked around his room and found a black plastic bag of trash and started to add to it. After half an hour progress was made. He stripped the sheets off his bed and dumped them outside his door, then found fresh ones to put on the bed. The picture sat on the table next to it, a corner under the radio.

_"It's like a dream, no end and no beginning. You're here with me, it's like a dream-"_

The music stopped and was replaced by static. It took Sam a minute to realize what happened and paused in his cleaning to talk over to his radio. He was about to change it to another station when the music came back on suddenly, well into another song.

_"Voices tell me I should carry on, but I am swimming in an ocean all alone."_

Sam made a face and changed to another station.

_"I tried to go on like I never knew you, I'm awake but my world is half asleep."_

"The radio is conspiring against me," Sam decided as he hit yet another button with a trembling hand.

Static filled the silence again, and Sam breathed a sigh of relief he hadn't realized he was holding. He turned back to the blanket he was tucking into the bed as the radio came back on again.

_"Oceans apart, day after day, and I slowly go insane. I hear your voice on the line, but it doesn't stop the pain, if I-"_

Blinding pain, a flash of yellow and Sam was on his knees, hands pressed over his ears as he yelled in pain. The pain grew hotter, more intense, and he pressed down harder to keep his head from exploding.

He was dimly aware of a hand on his shoulder and the room growing darker as a shade was lowered. Hours passed for him and he finally opened his eyes to see his mother and father looking at him in concern.

"I think you need to see a doctor," his mother whispered. Sam whimpered and tucked his head against his chest. His stomach worked its way up to his throat and he gagged, but nothing happened; he hadn't eaten breakfast.

"Maybe we can get one to come out here," Ron suggested, genuinely afraid for his son. "It may not be a good idea to get him in a car."

"No car. Please, no car." Sam slowly rolled his eyes up to his parents, pleading, as a blissful shadow rolled over him and pulled him into the darkness.

* * *

Lyrics from "Love Game" by Lady GaGa, "Like a Prayer" by Madonna, "Incomplete" by the Backstreet Boys, and "I'll Be Right Here Waiting For You" by Bryan Adams


	5. Chapter 4

Author's Note: Thanks for all the reviews! It makes me so happy to know people are reading and enjoying. For all those who hope everything turns out okay, let me just tell you: I love angst, but I love happy endings even more.

Also: I am not a doctor, so not all things may be accurate, but I tried to be as close as possible. Forgive any errors, please.

Disclaimer: I do not own Transformers; they are not mine, nor ever will be. The songs belong to their respective owners, as well.

Comments are greatly appreciated! Enjoy!

* * *

The first thing Sam noted when he opened his eyes was that the ceiling was smooth and white, with small recessed lighting around the edges. The bed below him was thin and he could feel the metal beneath it. Definitely not his bed. Rolling his eyes to the right he saw curtains hanging around the bed.

He was in a hospital.

His lips were dry and cracked, and he licked to wet them and struggled to push himself up into some semblance of sitting. He found a remote by his hand and pushed the button, which lifted his head. To his left came the steady beeping of monitors; it was a sound he knew too well from his time in the hospital just a month earlier.

Sam was about to call out to his parents when the curtain parted and a man in a white coat slipped in with a clipboard in his hands. He smiled when he saw Sam sitting there.

"Sam. It's nice to see you awake and sitting. I'm Doctor Haines. How are you feeling?"

Assessing the situation, Sam concentrated and felt no pain. "I feel fine. What am I doing here?"

"Your parents called for an ambulance and had you brought in. You lost consciousness at home."

"Oh… where are my parents?"

"They're out in the lobby getting coffee. They'll be back soon."

"How long has it been?" Sam wanted to know.

"You've been here for about an hour now. You're a little dehydrated, so we have you on an IV to bring your fluids back up. I have some questions I'd like to ask you, if that's all right?"

Sam nodded cautiously, not wanting to set off any new pains. "Sure."

"Your doctor placed you on Imitrex for migraines, correct?"

"Yes. But not at first. I was just taking Excedrin Migraine, but it didn't help."

"Okay. How are your sleep habits? And eating? Are you getting enough exercise?"

Sam answered the questions and then came under a new barrage, but answered them as well, to the best he could. He wondered if he should tell the doctor about the visions he saw, but something told him it wouldn't be a good idea. He refrained, for the moment.

"I don't see any reason to admit you at this time, Sam. But I am going to switch your medication. Treximet is another migraine medication, but it's been proven more effective for some over Imitrex. It is not to be taken daily, but can be taken when you feel a migraine coming on. Do you understand?" Sam nodded that he did. "Good. I'll have that filled for you here. Now, as for exercise, it would be good for you if you did some light cardiovascular exercises. Some migraines can be brought on by stress, and exercise can help alleviate that. This does not mean you should go out and start running a marathon, though."

Sam barked a short laugh. "Don't worry about that, not a chance."

"Good. We'll see about getting you released shortly. In the mean time, you can just wait here and I'll get your parents. Do you have any questions?"

He hesitated and stared down at the blanket covering his legs. "This new stuff… will it help a migraine that comes on suddenly?"

"What do you mean by suddenly?"

"When I get them, there's usually no warning. It just happens and I end up on the floor or the ground."

Dr. Haines looked at him and jotted a note on his clipboard. "Tell me a little about what happened this time. Your parents told me their version, but I'd like to hear it from your perspective."

Sam carefully picked his away around some of the details, leaving out the bit about the radio seemingly trying to give him a message – it had seemed that way to him, at least for a moment – and also omitting the bit about the picture of his former car. He did, however, throw in a little about memories starting to slowly come back. But he didn't tell him what kinds of memories.

"Just fragments," he said vaguely, when asked. "A sound or a color, and a phrase or two from someone I know. One of my friends. From school."

"This is fantastic news, Sam. I'm happy to hear your memories are returning. It must be a relief for you."

"It is," he admitted.

"I have a word of caution, though. When it happens, just let it run its course. Don't try to get more out of it than your mind is trying to give you. That could be – I'm not saying it is, but it _could_ be – a reason why your migraines are so intense and frequent. You could be unconsciously trying to get more out of these fragments that your brain is not yet ready to give up."

"So… what should I do when it happens?"

"Try to relax. Sit down and close your eyes. Don't focus too hard on the memories, but let it happen. If the pain is intense, take your medication and lay down in a dark, silent room."

Good advice that Sam was determined to take. "Can you tell my mother that bit about silent? She likes to uh, barge in and check on me."

The doctor chuckled and nodded. "It's difficult living at home sometimes, isn't it? You're twenty-two?" Sam nodded. "When you get your own place, it'll be different. But believe it or not, you'll probably miss your mother's interference."

Sam rolled his eyes. "I doubt it. Have you met my mother?"

"I have. She is a very energetic woman, it seems. And worried about her son, as any mother would be."

He reluctantly agreed. As the doctor left to prepare for his release, Sam lay back against the bed and stared back up at the ceiling. It was free of any markings and boring. It would drive a patient to tears if they had to stare at it for too long.

_But isn't boring what I need?_ Sam wondered to himself.

Less than an hour later, Sam and his parents were on their way home with his new prescription. The doctor had spoken with his parents, and the ride was eerily silent. Sam was grateful for it.

When they got home, Sam went up to his room and was relieved to find the picture still on the nightstand. He picked it up and sat on the edge of the bed, fingers gently touching the picture before opening the drawer and tucking it away for safekeeping. Maybe someday he'd get a frame for it. It was, after all, a cool car. How many teens could say their first car was a classic like that?

Hours passed and Sam alternated between resting and cleaning. By the time his mother had dinner ready, he'd finally straightened the mess that was his room and could breath easier. He hadn't realized how… trapped he felt in the room. He took one last look around, pleased at himself, and went down for dinner.

It was a quiet affair and Sam ate the fried chicken quickly before heading back up to his room. He lay on his bed and stared at the crack in the ceiling, keeping his mind carefully blank. It had been a long day and he was already tired, though it was barely eight o'clock.

Just as he was about to turn onto his side to flip on his television, a burst of pain flared between his eyes. He let out a strangled moan and closed his eyes, dropping a hand over it, and tried to keep himself from reacting.

_His father stood and shook his head at the salesman while Sam sat in the car. "I'm not going over four thousand."_ _Sam frowned when the man, Bobby Bolivia, told him to get out of the car and tried to show him another car. He frowned at it and just as he turned to his father, an alarm went off in the Camaro, shattering the windows in all the other cars on the lot. The three of them ducked down as the glass blew out all over the lot, sparkling in the sunlight. _

_Bobby stood up, surveying the damage in horror. He turned to Sam and his father and help up four fingers. "Four thousand!" he yelped. _

_Sam cheered and patted the car, a grin on his face. His father looked at the damage and shook his head. He'd have to get that alarm disconnected. _

The image faded and left Sam with a slight twinge. He held his breath, waiting for a wave of pain and nausea, but nothing happened. He stayed in his spot, frozen with relief, and replayed the image in his mind over and over. Not pushing for more, but content with what he had for the moment.

~*~

Bumblebee felt guilty. He had found an opportunity to communicate with Sam and took it. He hadn't thought that it would be a problem. But what had been harmless ended up with Sam in the hospital for a short amount of time. He came down from the cliff and sulked around, leaving the others to stay out of his way.

It didn't take Optimus long to figure out what had happened though, and with his usual tact, he approached Bumblebee.

"It is unwise to try to contact Sam, Bumblebee. You could endanger him in many ways. Causing him to be ill will be the least of your concerns… and ours… if the American government finds out. We signed a contract with them stating we would not have contact with humans, including Sam. If we break that agreement we could be forced from this planet. There are now many others involved in this, and I cannot allow you to keep making these decisions that could endanger us all."

"There is no danger," Bumblebee argued, gesturing. "I am careful. They will not find out."

"I have no doubt that you are careful. But was it not a human girl that detected the Decepticons hacking into their government's files? And a human boy that figured out the encryption and discovered what it was they were stealing? It is not like you to underestimate them. Your concern for the boy is clouding your sensors."

Bumblebee hung his head, taking the reprimand seriously. It bothered Optimus to see him that way, and after a moment, he relented.

"Anyway, we have another shipment due to arrive in a few hours. With an old friend. I hope you'll be here to speak with him."

The smaller Autobot looked up at him, wondering who he meant. A few hours later he was there when the convoy arrived, led by none other than Major Lennox.

"Optimus!" The man said, a wide smile on his face. Behind him was USAF Master Sergeant Epps. "It's been a while. How's everything going?"

"Things are going well. How are you?" he asked, kneeling down to be a little closer to his level.

"Things are great. My little girl's five now, can you believe it?"

Epps rolled his eyes at his friend and looked around. "So this is what you've been doing with all those materials?"

Ironhide strode up to them, snorting. "This is nothing. The real work is underground. Come, I'll show you."

"A private tour, very nice."

Lennox held up a hand and shook his head when they turned to wait for him. "You go ahead. I wanted to speak with Optimus about something." When Bumblebee turned to leave, he held up a hand. "Wait, Bumblebee. I'd like you to stay, too."

Bee looked to Optimus and shrugged when their leader nodded his agreement. He would stay.

The three of them walked some distance away, even though it didn't matter where they went in the compound; the others would hear them if they chose. They ended up walking until they reached the cliff. Bumblebee sat on the ledge, settling into a position he was familiar with, and did his best not to connect with the satellites and surveillance around Sam. Old habits, after all, die hard.

"I thought you'd like to know, we've been monitoring Sam since the government wiped his memory clean. I suppose they felt that since we already knew the boy, it would be easier to use us rather than get others involved."

"It is good to know he has friends watching over him."

"Yeah. Since the surgery, he's been having migraines. The doctor we have watching the situation was afraid at first that his body was rejecting the implant. But he's working on another theory. Anyway, I also thought you'd like to know he was rushed to the hospital today." Lennox paused and looked up at Optimus, and then over at Bumblebee. "But you already knew that, didn't you?"

"I just found out," Optimus said, but Lennox held his gaze on Bumblebee, who was staring out at the horizon.

"Bumblebee? What about you? My men have found evidence of someone hacking into surveillance and satellite feeds. It was very well covered, but there were traces."

Bee had couldn't hide the minute reaction he had of surprise. He'd thought he'd been very careful. Lennox saw this and sighed. "You're lucky we were the ones to find it. I know you're worried about the kid, hell I am too, but you need to be more careful."

The Autobot nodded but didn't look his way.

"We all miss him. I don't like what they did to him any more than you do, but nothing can be done about it. He's back home now and doing fine, from what it seems."

"What about his memories?"

"Seems like a few of them are surfacing. We have a doctor on the inside that took over his care if he was brought in. Doctor Haines is a good man, so we're told."

Optimus leaned closer to him, his metallic features shifting to show his confusion. "You have a doctor working for you?"

Lennox grinned. "Well not for me, exactly, but the division I'm now working under. They don't think what happened to Sam was a good thing for their own reasons. He's been in contact with you guys for so long now, and he has… had… that bit of the Allspark with him and in his brain. There's more to it, but I'm not privy to that information yet. I'll keep you informed."

With that, he looked at his watch and nodded to them. "I've got to get back. I'll send you an update when I have something."

"Thank you for keeping us updated."

"We've been through a lot together, and he's a good kid. Don't want to see anything happen to him."

Lennox said his goodbye to Bumblebee and left with Optimus. When they were gone, he carefully connected to the satellite and checked to make sure Sam was all right. When he was assured that he was, he retreated and ended his connection, then left his spot and went to join the others. There was much work to do.


End file.
